


Deceptive Memory

by holdouttrout



Series: Deceptive [4]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-31
Updated: 2007-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-15 21:29:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holdouttrout/pseuds/holdouttrout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all falls apart</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deceptive Memory

_They weren't supposed to be there._

In retrospect, Leia feels she should have anticipated their..."intervention." She should have distanced herself differently, used her relationship with Han as an excuse. She should have blushed and diverted their questions with that air of mysterious affection for her husband they all saw and didn't quite understand. 

She notes it dully in her report, filling up the flimsy with details, things she doesn't need to include but feels are important to record somewhere. 

Yske, who wore thirteen earrings. Leia had been curious about them, wondering if there was a cultural or familial significance to them. There had been a family in the Palace that wore earrings as a sign of maturity, and Leia had been jealous of the tall, curvy girls whose ears glinted with an abundance of gold and silver. 

She had never asked Yske about them. 

Sira and Eriya, two best friends, unlikely though it was, given their difference in age. Leia had rarely seen one without the other. She still wasn't sure whose idea the impromptu party had been, and she doubted either would remember, if she could ask. 

They had arrived on her patio, all three of them, giggling and bent on a night on the town to cheer her up. After all, they reasoned, she had been serious lately...even for her. They crowded around the door while Leia tried frantically to send them away. 

It had been a mistake. A fidgety contact and a touchy blaster, and Yske was lying in front of their door, blood pooling beneath her, staining the light green dress she'd been wearing, her dark eyes wide in surprise and pain. Leia couldn't move. 

_This wasn't supposed to happen._

Sira and Eriya were screaming, Han took the blaster from the shell-shocked operative 

_so young_

Leia finally moved, bent down over Yske, placed her hands in the wound, ignoring the two women who were yelling at her. 

The operative tried to defend his actions. 

_They could have been spies!_

And Leia doesn't remember what else he said, but she did remember Eriya and Sira's looks--identical looks of disbelief and anger--as they put the whole story together. And all the time Yske under her hands, her eyes open and unseeing, her blood staining the knees of Leia's trousers. 

A hand on her shoulder brings her back to the present, back to their bunk on the _Falcon_ , back to the musty closed-up smell that hasn't quite been processed out of the ship by the scrubbers yet. 

Han settles behind her, clean skin brushing against her back, her still-damp hair catching in the crook of his elbow. He takes the flimsy from her, drops it on the floor. 

She whispers, "We just left them." 

_Yske's face as Han pulled her away, buzzing in her ear about their cover being blown and needing to go now, he'd called the medics, they'd be there in time._

She'll probably never know if Yske lived or died. They don't get many newsfeeds from Halos in the Republic. 

He moves closer to her, shifts her so he is embracing her, his chin on her head, her face tucked against his neck. She breathes him in, kisses his neck. His hands track up and down her sides, circling her waist. 

She lifts her arms, pushing up the sleeves of his old white shirt as her hands move to his shoulders. She slips her hands under the neck, pushing the shirt back until she can trace his collarbone all the way out to his shoulders. 

He kisses her gently, as if he's afraid she'll break. She knows it's something he worries about on the other assignments. They both thought this one was safe. Safer. And they'd allowed themselves to pretend themselves into the roles, let themselves be carefree like they hadn't in a long time. 

She lets him lead tonight, and he sets the pace slow, carefully undressing her first and laying her down on the bed before joining her. She doesn't shiver, even though it's still a little colder than she likes it. 

He kneads her legs, his warm hands chasing away faces she shouldn't be able to forget just yet. He settles between her thighs and his breath puffs against her abdomen before his mouth moves on, creating other pleasures, bringing in the familiar tightness, making her hips arch into his fingers, his mouth. 

She comes like that, for him, and something inside her warms her until she can look at him and pull him up her body until his face is over hers. She kisses him again, holding him to her, one hand behind his neck. He pulls back as he enters her, watching her face, and she's amazed at how he still has a question in his eyes. 

As an answer, she tilts her hips, hooks her legs around his, closes her eyes. She lets him set a low pace, losing herself in the sensation. She needs to feel something besides guilt, and so Han mutes it for her, replaces it with the white noise of his body in and around her, his hands drawing heat to her skin wherever they touch. 

And, just for a moment, she lets go completely. 

She'll remember later.


End file.
